The Red House Ch. 02

Late October in Mississippi, things are still pretty green and it was a pleasant day – the summer heat long gone. We ate our lunch mostly in silence, pausing to give each other silly, greasy kisses. Once we were done, we took a walk through the trees, Momma looking radiant in the early afternoon sun, looking erotic as the bright light of the sun made her dress seem almost transparent – making it even more obvious that she was not wearing a bra and maybe not panties. We still didn't say much beyond little "I love you" and other endearments.

Finally, we returned to our picnic spot. Momma squatted down to take up the blanket, but I knelt next to her and said, "Wait a minute, Momma."

My mother looked at me expectantly and said, "Something wrong, John?"

I shook my head and said, "No, but we have some unfinished business. From my pocket, I pulled out the small ring box she'd closed when we'd last been together. I opened it up and held up the small diamond ring. I took Momma's hand in mine and said, "I've waited like you've asked, but now it is the right time. Momma...Carleen Howard, I love you with all my heart. Will you please marry me?"

Fresh tears rolled down Momma's face and she looked at me and said, "You sure you want an old prison slut like me?" I nodded, a big grin on my face. Momma bit her lower lip for a second and then said, "Son, yes...God yes. I'm right proud you're my son and I'll be proud to be your wife!"

I slid the ring onto her left hand and we kissed, kneeling there on the blanket, tongues joining in loving greeting as we hugged each other tightly. When we ended the long, passionate kiss, Momma had her evil, sexy grin back and she said, "You think Donna would approve?"

I shrugged my shoulders and replied, "I think so. Mom was all about being happy and always said love and family is what's important and in your arms, I have both in more ways than I ever dreamed possible."

"I love you, son," Momma whispered, pushing me onto my back, her hands working at my belt. "I love my boy and I'll be proud to have a motherfucker for a husband!" Before I knew it, Momma had my pants down around my ankles and my cock was proud and erect in her hands. My mother moved up to straddle me, raising the hem of her short dress and confirming what I was already suspecting – that she wasn't wearing any panties, her thick, black bush glistened with arousal.

With a moan, Momma guided my erect penis between her already swollen labia, slick with her juices and slowly sank down on my cock! Momma took all of me inside her in one sweetly drawn out movement, raising her hands to the sky and stretching out on me like a big jungle cat, her fingers flexing like claws as quivers of pleasure took her over. She looked down at me and as she began to ride me, moaned, "Now, I know I'm free. I'm fucking my son, my lover, my husband and I'll know I'm free every time I got this good hard cock inside me!"

Momma let out a squeal of carnal delight while I reached up and tugged the neckline of her dress down, fully revealing her massive tits, nipples already thick with excitement, swollen and almost throbbing with her desires. My fingers played over her breasts, pinching hard nipples and squeezing her soft, pillow-like flesh.

A gentle breeze blew over us, making us shiver as it briefly cooled our suddenly sweaty bodies, adding to the sweet, incestuous pleasure building in us as Momma slid her clasping pussy up and down my cock, her thick labia trying to cling to my shaft as she rose up and then swallowing all of me as she let her slick, molten cunt slide down my long, thick pole.

I felt an orgasm wash over Momma, making her nipples swell even more as she completely impaled herself on my cock, grinding her pelvis against mine as I felt her juices soak our co-joined crotches. I pulled her face down to mine, our lips parting so we could kiss again, her tongue tasting fresh and delicious against my tongue as they curled and roiled around each other. Momma kissed me hard, her body quivering as she shook from the intensity of her climax, ending it with a gasp of "I'm free – fucking my loving boy. I'm free!"

I let my hands slip to cup Momma's ass and I began to work her back and forth on my cock, allowing her waning orgasm to blossom anew as I buried my face against her mammoth breasts, biting one and then the other nipple as she clung to me and sobbed her orgasm, her cries deepening every time she dropped and again took all of me deep into her tightening womb. Momma's cries of passion were echoed back in the glad responses of songbirds in the trees, eventually fading as her second orgasm began to ebb.

Momma wiggled contentedly with my throbbing penis deep inside her and I let myself go, thrusting my hips up with so much effort, her breasts bounced wildly in appreciation as I flooded her cunt with shot after shot of semen, the fiery seed triggering another orgasm in my mother. I held her tight as she convulsed in my lap, her pussy milking my sperm from my balls, just reveling in holding Momma in my arms with no one to tell me or her that we had to stop.

#

With Momma free, there seemed to be no end to what we might do. Sure there was some rough days as Momma struggled to adapt to a new life, one that no longer included prison walls and a rigid, rarely changing schedule. At the end of each bump we hit, Momma found comfort in my arms and I found new levels of intimacy I never knew could be shared with another human being. Day by day, Momma braved her new world and we celebrated triumph, big or small. Whether it was learning to drive and getting a new license or simply venturing from the house to grocery shop, we embraced every step of Momma's return to the world.

At my Thanksgiving break, we drove over to New Orleans and had ourselves an honest to god Honeymoon after having a backwater justice of the peace marry us. I promised Momma we'd return to see the sights another time because we only emerged from our hotel room to get something to eat when we tired of room service. We wear matching gold bands, simple, plain rings that represent the pureness of our love for each other.

Despite our happiness, we did have a shadow following us – the ever present possibility of my grandfather somehow finding a way to strike back at us. We discussed leaving Mississippi and seized on the opportunity to do so when the chance was given to me to transfer to a California school and continue my graduate studies on Falkner and his 'Hollywood' years. Momma was quite happy to leave Mississippi behind – the truth being that Tisha Wilkins was the only thing we'd regret leaving behind. Tisha resisted most contact and other than a few phone conversations, we never caught up to her before we left.

Momma and I celebrated our first wedding anniversary in California making love in our apartment near UCLA. We had other reasons to celebrate as well. One morning in early November as we prepared to go to school (me to my graduate studies and Momma to some remedial preparatory college classes), the news came over the news cable station that Congressman Andrew Garrett had died. Officially attributed as a massive heart attack, reports soon surfaced that he'd done himself in and that it had been officially hushed up.

And shortly after Granddaddy's death, we received word from Tisha after several months of silence...a letter and a photograph. The photo was of Tisha and an infant perhaps six months old. The baby had dark skin, sandy brown hair and blue eyes. The back of the picture was labeled, "Tisha and Katherine." The letter was short and to the point.

"I RECKON THE PICTURE TELLS MOST OF THIS. I ALWAYS TOLD YOU THAT IN PRISON, NOTHING COMES FOR FREE. I DID FOR YOU AND CARLIE AND YOU ARE FREE TO LIVE YOUR LIVES. IN EXCHANGE YOU DID FOR ME TOO, ALTHOUGH I RECKON IT AINT EXACTLY WHAT YOU THOUGHT YOU WERE GIVING. I WANTED A BABY FROM A GOOD MAN AND JOHN THAT WAS YOU. CARLIE'S LUCKY SHE'S GOT YOU FOR A SON AND A HUSBAND. LITTLE KATHERINE'S LUCKY SHE'S GOT YOU FOR A DADDY AND I'LL MAKE THE INTRODUCTIONS REAL SOON. IN SOME WAYS, SHE'S THE DAUGHTER OF ALL THREE OF US AND NOONE CAN DENY THAT SHE IS DEFINETELY A CHILD OF LOVE.

LOVE,

TISHA

P.S. JOHN, I LET YOUR GRANDDADDY KNOW HE HAD A FINE HALF-BLACK/HALF WHITE GREAT GRANDDAUGHTER A WEEK BEFORE HE DIED. I THOUGHT HE'D WANT TO KNOW.

And that's where we are now – working on schooling and waiting anxiously to meet my daughter...Momma's granddaughter. Sometimes at night after we've made love, Momma and I will talk about the future. Some of my professors are already guiding me towards staying here once I've gained my doctorate. Momma and I talk about buying a house or maybe even building our own. We're not sure except that we agree on the color. We both think there is only one answer – the color we associate most with our incestuous love. We will live in a red house.

The End